Makers Unmade
by New-and-possibly-improved
Summary: A battle mage comes to Skyhold from across the sea, hiding her powers and her secrets from ever watchful eyes while trying to make sure the Inquisition mages will never bow down again
1. Chapter 1

Leaves rustle in the slight breeze and every now and then the smell of autumn reaches the healer's nose. She sniffs, glancing around. Autumn may come but winter will never breach Skyhold's walls. Old enchantments are nestled in every nook and cranny of this place, augmented by a few basic runes she knows.

"Jackie, we need your help."

The healer looks up and the sister who visibly recoils. That look of disgust never changes when someone looks at her. A sharp scar cuts diagonally across Jackie's face separating smooth, taut skin from greying, pockmarked skin.

"What do you need help with?"

The sister swallows, "Can you make the elfroot grow a little faster? We're running a little lower than we should be."

"Of course ma'am." The healer wanders over to the healing garden before cupping a few stalks of elfroot. It's a little paler than it should be, perhaps a little scrawnier too though Jackie still has problems telling anything about a plant from looking at it. She leans over, focusing on the plant, drawing in her power before pushing it out into the plant. Slowly new tendrils sprout, fresh tender leaves turn towards the sun. She smiles softly before the static of battle magic draws her attention. The Commander, a man with magic only lent to him from lyrium, is attempting to teach born mages how to fight. It would be comical if it weren't so sad. Why are there no battle mages to teach them?

Jackie sighs, glancing back at her little elfroot plants. She's a hedge mage, a healer, that's what she came to be. Lightning crackles, misses its mark, and she grits her teeth as the yelling begins again. The mages have next to no one to teach them how to fight like soldiers and the soldiers can't teach the mages because they have no magic. This fool is going to get the mages killed.

. . .

"Why are we even teaching them, Commander? Can't Grand Enchanter Fiona or someone do it?"

"No," Cullen growls. A headache is blooming between his eyes and almost getting shot with lightening earlier didn't help. "The Grand Enchanter won't do much of anything because of Redcliff. Magister Pavus is Tevinter, I don't want him teaching. Enchanter Vivienne refuses. No one else is in a position to teach anything as what they've learned was only good enough to survive not to win against an organized threat."

"Commander," Rylen scowls. "We're not doing much of anything by trying to teach them. We've spent our whole lives trying to get them not to fight, we're wasting our time by not just teaching our soldiers and hoping the mages pick up some tips."

"Knight-Captain, the Inquisitor gave us an order. We're to teach the mages how to fight as well as teach the normal recruits. There's no room for discussion."

"Well, I'll do whatever the Inquisitor says even if I think it's pointless."

"Good, now if there's nothing else I need to work on these papers." Rylen shuts the door behind himself and Cullen slumps behind his desk. Every paper he picks up shakes, the ink swimming before his eyes. One breath, two breaths, the words come into focus a little more but after a few minutes he puts the paper down in disgust. He can't focus. He shrugs out of the massive fur he wears, removes his armor and tries again.

It would be so easy to get some lyrium. He's been so careful, careful not to do it too often, careful to not let it consume him, it's been a month since he's had any so what will one little bit hurt?

No, no, now's not the time. He's better than that. He _has_to be better than that.

. . .

A girl, no more than fourteen and missing one tooth smiles at Jackie. "We hedge mages have to stick together. I'm tired of them calling us apostates like we're dirty."

"Apostates," Jackie rolls the word around on her tongue. It feels foreign, something she's never been called before coming here. She says nothing else.

"So…I've been wondering, Jackie, what happened to your face, and why do you stay covered up all the time? It's bedtime and you've got gloves on."

Jackie stares at the ceiling, desperately wishing once again for private accommodations. Why the child continues to talk is beyond her. Perhaps a distraction is in order. "What happened to your tooth, Cor?"

"Oh this? Well one day, a long long time ago before I came to Skyhold, one day I was there minding my own business. I was singing to my flowers and my snails and we were all having a grand ole time." She drones on for a solid five minutes about the grass, the animals, the way the sunlight felt before revealing that her mother had caught her using magic. Cor had run away after her mother hit her over the head and knocked her tooth out. Jackie doesn't pry for what happened to the mother. It's easy to guess.

"If you don't ask me about my face, don't ask my anything about how I look or what I do, I can replace your tooth. How does that sound?"

"Ha! You can't just make new teeth. The Chantry sisters say only the Maker can do that."

"Well, they're wrong. Do we have a deal?" She extends her hand. Cor pretends to think about it for a moment before laughing and vigorously shaking her hand. A jolt travels up the child's arm and Jackie stares at the hole. Energy coalesces, creating a new tooth which Cor excitedly runs her tongue over.

"Oh Maker! This is amazing! Thank you so, so much! I'll never ask you another thing, I promise!" She jumps up, "I have to go thank the Maker!"

Jackie snorts as the younger girl runs out of the room towards the sanctuary. "The Maker had nothing to do with this."

. . .

Cullen sleeps fitfully, the same as usual. By the time dawn approaches he's already up, strapping his armor on carefully. He's spent almost everyday for it seems like as long as he can remember, in armor. The weight is familiar, comfortable, even if this new design did take awhile to adjust to. He strokes the lion on his chest, an odd change from the flaming sword he'd once worn. "There are no Templars anymore," he mutters. "I'm responsible for the wellbeing of everyone here – mages and non-mages alike." He sighs, "I have to keep the peace."

He stares at the mirror for a moment. There are bags under his eyes that hadn't been there months ago. He'd thought he was tired in Kirkwall but it pales in comparison to the bone-tired weariness that's settled over him like a cloud. "Today will be better. No lightening today."

The ladder creaks under him. He still worries about going up and down it in his armor but has been reassured multiple times that it's sturdy enough to support him. A polite knock on the door doesn't surprise him. It's the same every morning. A maid curtsies to him and sets a covered tray on his desk.

"Oh, that's new," She comments, "_Battle Magic _well that seems pretty straight forward."

"What?" Cullen's head whips around.

"Oh, sorry Commander. I know I'm not supposed to look at your desk but-"

He stalks over to his desk only to find a large, loosely bound book sitting squarely in the center of his desk. "Guards!" He roars.

**It's been about 2 years since I've played, read, or had anything to do with Dragon Age. I don't have access to the games anymore so I'm going off of memory and wikis. Things will change, but I hope to stay true to the essence of the characters and the adventurous feeling of Dragon Age. **

**Please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

The Nightingale turns the book over in her hands once more, her fingers running over the gold, embossed _Battle Magic _on an otherwise nondescript, black book. "And you're sure no one was in here last night, Scout Jim?"

"N-No my lady," the scout stammers. "No one ever comes in once the Commander retires for the night."

Leliana scowls and the Inquisitor picks up the tome, thumbing through the pages. "Well I'm no mage but it does seem rather comprehensive. Look," the slender elven woman points to a diagram with all the veins in a humanoid body mapped out. "and there's bits for each element, protection runes, even ways to draw a weapon back to you if you drop it. We obviously need to find out how it got here but it wouldn't hurt to use it until we do."

"Inquisitor, I don't like the idea of teaching the mages something from an unverified source," Cullen replies. "What if there's some kind of blood magic ideas hidden in there?"

Aleara rolls her eyes at him, "I doubt –"

"No Inquisitor," the commander uncharacteristically cuts her short. "You'd be amazed at what some mages can slip blood magic into. I've seen instructions for it written into recipes, into directions, all kinds of things. We can't take any risks."

She elf grinds her teeth, "If we can't find who ever put this here by the end of the week we're using it. It's a risk not to use it. I'm glad you're training them but they're still fighting like scared little circle mages. How many of them will die in a real fight? We got lucky at Haven but I'm not taking that chance again." She pinches the bridge of her nose, her black vallaslin scrunching. "If this can help, use it!"

Cullen's nostrils flare but he nods. "Yes, Inquisitor."

"Good, thank you. Now, what can we do to find whoever did this?"

"Well," the spymaster thinks aloud, "whoever it is obviously got frustrated enough with the Commander's training to risk placing this book here. Perhaps simply continuing with the regular training will be enough to spur them out of hiding."

. . .

"That man is a damn fool," Jackie mutters to herself, distractedly healing a scout who just came from the Hinterlands. She glowers at the idiotic dunce of a commander. The morning trainings with the regular troops had gone fine, the same as usual. Now though, with the mages, that moron is still using his imbecilic training techniques without even a hint of help from the very detailed and organized manual she'd left for him. It had been copied out of her own grimoire, dumbed down perhaps but even that would help. And yet this bumbling buffoon thinks his ways are better!

"Ow! Damn it!" The woman she'd been healing jerks back. An angry red welt now stands where a nasty cut had previously.

"Oh, let me fix that!"

"No," the scout tugs her sleeve down, wincing at the contact. "I'll get someone else to do it."

Jackie sighs, plopping down in the grass. That anger has to be controlled, not unleashed on innocent bystanders, she reminds herself. She's supposed to be a healer here. None of her other plans had worked, the farm had burnt down, the second farm had had to be abandoned, selling different wares had only exacerbated her anger problems. Healing has to work this time. The sounds of magic ring in her ears and she sighs. There was a time when – no, she wrenches her thoughts back. She can't fight anymore. She won't fight anymore.

. . .

Dorian Pavus, the flamboyant Tevinter Magister looks at the book that sent Leliana into a tizzy this morning. "You know she's been getting notes on her desk all day long. The ravens keep flying up and secret doors keep opening. I can't see it but I can hear it all."

"I'm surprised she told you about it at all," Cullen replies.

The magister shrugs. "I'm a mage who doesn't have anyone to run off and tell and let's face it, I'm a little easier to talk to than our resident bald elvhen wanderer. She actually asked me to come and take a look at it."

"Well, what do you think?"

"Hmm, give me time and I'll tell you."

"Fine, just bring it back soon. Do you have any ideas of how to find who –"

"Hush, Commander," Dorian waves the commander off, his nose already in the book, "Let me read." Cullen rolls his eyes and begins the paperwork piling up on his desk. The headache isn't as bad today as it was yesterday. Perhaps all the excitement was good for something.

Minutes turn into hours and the stack of papers decreases significantly. The silence is only broken by the mage's small excited exclamations and frequent sounds of consternation. Finally, Dorian stretches, closing the book and setting it on the table with a thud. "I made it through about a third and by the Maker I'll have to read it again once I do my first read-through. I need to take notes and compare it with a few other books in the library. Most of it is basic, like what they teach us in Tevinter – though I doubt Ferelden circle mages learned it – but some of the things, Maker, some of the things. There's a part in here about redirecting lightening!

"Normally, as I'm sure you know, you get shot with lightening and you're done for. If you're not done for then you're pretty damn close to it. Now in here the writer has a technique to gather the lightening and pass it through you safely. That's unheard of! And there's more, most of it's building on what I've already learned but they take magic in an entirely different direction than we do."

"And demons, blood magic, any mention of those yet?"

"None, and I'm hoping not to find any." Dorian gets up, stretches once again, and leaves with the book tucked securely under his arm. Cullen gets along with him, but he's a mage and a Tevinter one at that which always sets the commander on edge at least a little when discussing magic. He came with them to Haven though, fought at the Inquisitor's side, and if nothing else, the Inquisitor trusts him completely which is enough for the man in charge of her armies. Hopefully the book is safe and won't reveal any untoward secrets.

The next day dawns with, to his relief, no new surprises awaiting the commander. The Templars and the regular recruits train with no issues. He flounders through training the circle mages and few apostates that have joined the Inquisition. If looks could kill, he'd be skewered on the spot by the 'healer' watching from a distance.

. . .

Four long, monotonous days later the Inquisitor's spymaster takes a walk through one of Skyhold's many gardens. To the outsider the red-head looks as if she's enjoying a simple stroll, that is until she crouches down in front of a particularly luscious dragonthorn and the woman tending it. "So, you're the new gardener, right? It takes so much work to make sure these plants can all thrive here."

Jackie glances up, showing no signs of recognizing the intruder. "Actually ma'am, I'm a healer. I just do a few enchantments to help out the real gardener."

"Hmm, well you do a good job with the plants. Tell me, what did you do back home? You must have had a beautiful garden."

The mage shrugs. "I was just a healer. I didn't have a garden, my family travelled too much for that."

"Oh, is your family traders?" The spymaster pries.

"Ma'am," she snickers, "I'm a hedge mage, your people keep saying apostate. What do you think my family was?" Jackie brushes her ashy brown hair back into her braid before straightening. "If that's all ma'am, I really need to get back to my work."

"Oh, do stay a little longer, I'm sure your work can wait." This isn't going well. "What I really wanted to ask you is, is everyone treating you well? As you said, you're an apostate more than anyone who started out in a circle. Are the Templars treating you well?"

"Everyone one is fine to me and to the others. I have no complaints."

"That's a relief," Leliana sighs with relief. "It must be so frustrating to be around them all the time. You can watch the trainings from here it looks like. I don't think the Templars have any idea what to do when it comes to teaching mages how to fight, do you?"

Jackie cocks one eyebrow slightly, so that's what the woman is here for. "It's not my place to say. I'm sure the Templars are doing the best with what they have." Just as nonchalantly as Leliana had asked her question, Jackie can't help but respond with, "It'd be an affront to all mages if the commander wasn't doing the most he could."

"Yes, I suppose it would be." There's a pregnant pause. "Did you ever fight back home? Where is home for you, if I might ask?"

"I'm from the North, we travelled so no specific place. I preferred to stay away from any fighting done, I'm not built for skirmishes and battles. I only helped out once the fighting was over. How about you, you're the one wearing armor. I'm sure you've fought a lot."

Nightingale laughs, a tinkling lady-like laugh, "I fight when I have to, no more than that. Do you want to learn?"

It's Jackie's turn to laugh only hers is colder, though just as fake. "I prefer to heal. Now, really, I must return to work." This time she doesn't wait, she just leaves the spymaster standing by the dragonthorn, scrutinizing. There's no sign of the anger boiling right under the mage's skin. She's getting more reckless, more willing to jump back into the fray.

. . .

"She has to be lying, I'm just not sure about how much. With a face like that I refuse to believe she's never fought in some kind of battle."

Josephine smirks, "You're telling me that the great Nightingale is getting stumped by a self-proclaimed hedge mage? This is one for the history books."

"Don't mock me." Leliana purses her lips.

"And you're sure we can trust the spirit?" Cullen asks.

"Cole," The Inquisitor replies shortly, "And yes, we can trust him. He pointed straight at her when I asked him about the book."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Something about black blood but it didn't make any sense."

"She could be a blood mage for all we know!"

"Commander," Josephine interjects, "We won't know anything until we've had the chance to talk to her. Why don't we invite her in?"

"Yes, and get Cole too," The Inquisitor adds.

"You wanted me?" The door opens and Cole's head pops inside.

Cullen jumps. "Maker! Are you everywhere?"

Cole looks at the unnerved commander, blankly. "No, not really. I just like to be around her, we all do. She's calm, collected, careful. She calms my mind, calms us all."

"Thank you Cole, now come sit with me." Aleara pats the chair beside her. Josephine sends a runner for the hedge mage and they wait. Eventually a knock echoes through the ambassador's office and the door hesitantly opens.

The mage stands there, grass stains on the knees of tan pants, a white, high collared blouse tucked into the wide interlocking waistband, leather gloves covering her forearms. She looks perfectly normal, completely unassuming except her face. It's no nasty, bulging scar bisecting her face. It's a thin, deep line that meanders its way from the upper right of her forehead and over her nose before cutting back barely across her lips and down the right side of her neck. One side has soft, smooth, young skin and the other – the side with her nose unfortunately in it – is tinted grey with ridges and wrinkles and veins too close to the surface. Even her hair along the scarred side is paler and limper though it's all pulled back into a loose half-braid. There's an uncomfortable but quickly stifled gasp from the Inquisitor and a sharp inhale from the Commander. "You asked for me Inquisitor?"

"Uh," She wasn't quite prepared to face that face, "Uh, yes. Please have a seat." She clears her throat as Jackie makes herself comfortable. "You're Jackie, correct? Leliana tells me you haven't been here very long."

"Jaqueline, actually, but I go by either. She's right, I haven't been here long."

"Where did you come from?"

"Up north, your ladyship."

"And you're a hedge mage, you've never fought?" The Inquisitor fires off another question.

"Yes, your ladyship."

"Not at all, I'm surprised. We all have. With being an apostate you must have, if nothing else then to protect your family."

Jaqueline bristles, ever so slightly, "I've done everything I can to protect my family but as I told that woman," she jerks her head towards the redhead.

"Leliana."

"Yes, as I told Leliana, I'm a healer. I came here to heal, not to fight. I have no interest in fighting. Now, if you don't mind, may I ask why you called for me or was it just to ask me questions that I've already answered?" Her nostrils flare in annoyance and the commander grips the sword always at his hip.

"You're speaking to the Inquisitor, you need to watch your tone."

"No, Cullen." Aleara waves him off. "She's right, why don't we get down to business. The Inquisition needs a Grand Enchanter to lead the mages, all of them. We need a battle mage, someone who can fight and can teach others how to as well. We know you were the one to put that book on the Commander's desk, we need you to teach from it."

Jackie looks around, her eyebrows knotted together. "What book? When did I put a book anywhere? I already told you, I don't fight."

"Blood," Cole fixes his too-pale eyes on her. Something about him is different from everyone else, she can feel it in the air around him. He's different. "Black arrows with black blood pierced black armor on a bronze chest. Horns tipped with gold. Full lips gasping. _Why isn't my magic working?_"

Jaqueline hisses sharply, unable to draw breath. She knows this scene. The room is getting hotter and she can't breathe. The walls are closing in and her heartbeat pounds in her ears.

The spirit child continues, "Black blood on an axe, white hair with twin black streaks. Head split open but lips still moving. You did the best you could. They both would have wanted-"

"Enough!" She roars, gripping the arms of her chair so tight the wood creaks. "Stay. Out. Of. My. Head!" Cole gets knocked backwards by an invisible force. She pulls her mental defenses even higher before pushing out again, she quickly draws a rune in the air about to send the spirit far, far away from Skyhold but the Inquisitor stops her with a shout.

"What are you doing!"

Jaqueline looks up, seeing once again the others in the room. The Inquisitor stands protectively over Cole with a dagger drawn. Leliana stands poised to throw a knife. Josephine has a hand behind her back, presumably gripping a weapon pulled from the many folds of her outfit. Cullen is the closest, his sword drawn. He too was only stopped by the Inquisitor's shout.

"Did it occur to you, Inquisitor, that some of us came here for a new start?" Jackie spits, her chest heaving. "I'm a healer now, that's all." She storms out of the room. Cullen notices the hand-shaped scorch marks on her chair.

**Shout out to anyone who gets the minor ATLA reference. **


	3. Chapter 3

The commander has no choice but to try to teach the mages from Jaqueline's book. Dorian had been more than willing to go over every detail of it, often pointing out how certain techniques could be incorporated into knowledge the circle mages should already have. With the help it should have been easy to teach. It should have been as simple as aim here and release magic but even after having spent the majority of his life around mages, he still couldn't explain how to properly gather the mana to do even a simple spell since he had no mana to gather. Even at his strongest, when he'd been taking lyrium frequently, Templars couldn't manage more than a cleanse and any Templar would balk at something like that being compared to _magic_.

He'd run into the not hedge mage multiple times in the month since their first meeting. At first she was cold, sneering at him and he was positive that given the chance, she'd bare her teeth at him. Slowly she progressed to indifferent. Then, she became hostile. Every time she saw him now, which happened more and more frequently, she had something nasty to say about his instruction of the mages. He was almost inclined to think she was running into him on purpose, just to be rude.

Now, the commander sits at his desk, Dorian and Rylen with him, planning the lessons for the next day while he goes over troop movements. His headache is back, and he's a little shaky. Neither of the men with him know that he's not taking any lyrium, neither of them knows how often that addictive little stone sings to him, begging him to take it. He won't let them know, he's just thankful for the help.

A shadow falls across his desk and the trio looks up. The woman he was hoping to avoid in the safety of his office stands in front of him, her arms crossed. "If you continue teaching you're going to get those mages killed," She states matter-of-factly. "I want an office with private quarters, a stipend, and I want that little spirit fuck kept far away from me. I still won't fight for the Inquisition, I'm a still a healer, but I'll teach. Do we have a deal?"

He scowls, "I'm not the Inquisitor, you need to take this up with her."

"She left again yesterday morning and won't be back for another few weeks. We can renegotiate this once the Inquisitor gets back but we'd be wasting precious time that could be used actually teaching if we wait for her return."

He grits his teeth. He doesn't trust her one bit but he knows she can teach better than he can. Judging by the book and her little display in Josie's office, she would teach them what they need to know, perhaps more than they needed. Still, he hesitates. "I'll see what I can do, but everything you teach them has to be run by me first."

The mage rolls her eyes. "Fine. Now," she eyes the tome in Dorian's hands and the notes written on the scroll beside it. "My book."

Dorian winces, not handing it over, "Do you really need it back? I'm sure you have a copy somewhere else."

She locks eyes with him and repeats, "My book." He sighs and hands it over. "Thank you," she drawls. "Commander, since you're incapable of believing that I do know what I'm doing and you want me to tell you what I'm teaching, tomorrow is just testing them, I want to see how good they are. There may be a lot of explosions so you'll want to keep the rest of your men out of my way."

She turns to leave but the commander calls her back. "What kind of tests? What will you be doing?"

The healer sighs, "Well, the first is stamina. I'll have them hold their element steady and see how long they can last. Then, I want to see how strong they are, can they break through enchantments and are they precise enough to actually hit the barrier. After that they'll spar. I want to see if they can survive without their magic or if they're hopeless in that regard. It's going to be a long day and I need to prepare, so if that's all." Again, she turns to leave.

Cullen's jaw clenches. "Wait, what do you need to prepare?"

She turns around once again, her lips pursed. "Are you this _attentive_with other mages or is it just me?"

The commander stands, locking eyes with her, hoping to tower over her but finding themselves about the same height. "I don't know you, I don't know where you're from, I don't know if you're a blood mage or possibly sent by Corypheus. I know nothing about you except you're an apostate who lied straight to the Inquisitor's face," he growls.

Silence hangs for a moment. Rylen and Dorian exchange a glance before looking at the pair. Jaqueline straightens, her expression softening slightly. "I'll prepare in here, so you can see. You won't understand it but perhaps that will put your mind at ease."

"That will work."

She nods and sets off. The book gets stashed in her bag and in its place she grabs her actual grimoire, with all of her notes scrawled over diagrams and even journal entries encoded into little marks on the margins of pages. Several other mages have been walking around Skyhold with their books clipped to their waistbands and so she follows suit. It'll take awhile to get used to the weight but runic enchantments have never been her strong suit. Even after all this time she only has the basics memorized, anything beyond protection, a few immolation runes, and select others has to be looked up so the grimoire must stay.

Soon, one of the many servants running through the keep stumbles into Cullen's office, heaving a large basket of rocks that he sets down with a thud. They're not large, each about half the size of the man's palm.

Rylen looks up, "Is there somethin' you need?"

"The lady," – pant – "Uh, uh," – pant – "The lady, uh, with the face," – pant – "She sent these."

"Oh, uh, thank you," Cullen comments. "Go and get yourself some water. Oh, and take these to Ladies Leliana and Josephine." He hands the man two short letters, the ink still a little wet.

"Y-Yes, Commander," the man pants before leaving.

The trio looks at the basket of perfectly normal rocks. "What is she up to?" Cullen questions.

Dorian laughs, "Maybe she intends to throw them at the mages."

"Yeah," Rylen adds, "She'll want to see how fast they can dodge."

Cullen picks one up, turning it over in his hands. There's nothing unusual about it. They aren't incredibly uniform, there are no odd markings, they're just rocks.

"C-Commander," another messenger hauls a basket of rocks into the room, panting. "For you."

"Uh thank you, just leave it here."

The man nods tiredly before trudging off. Over the next fifteen minutes three more baskets come, the final one followed by the mage herself. "Thank you, I'll take it from here." She grabs the basket from him and sets it down next to the others before sitting down herself. The mage unclips and opens her book to a section near the end, not nearly as worn as various other pages. She turns page after page until lighting on the needed drawing. The men in the room and the rocks are ignored as she begins to draw. Three thin concentric circles with small swirls on the inside appear behind her finger, glowing a warm red and floating just above the floorboards. Overlapping circles appear inside of the others, creating a circle of rings with the swirls running throughout.

Cullen and Rylen watch with furrowed brows. Dorian gets up to see exactly what she's doing. Now, Jacqueline turns to the book, one hand tracing the page and the other drawing. Tiny letters in what looks strikingly similar to old elvish are copied slowly onto the space between the two outermost rings. She mutters a curse word under her breath and smudges out a few symbols before continuing. The whole process takes under five minutes but when she's done an intricate rune, the size of one of the rocks, floats merrily in front of her. The thought crosses Dorian's mind that if it had a voice it would surely be singing a some bright and cheery tune.

"I've seen runes similar to that, it looks almost like a protection spell," The Tevinter mage notes.

"Not almost, it is."

"And the little marks around the edge that you had to use your grimoire for, what're those?"

Jacqueline gives the mage a once over, deciding how much information to divulge. "Those are modifiers, to make the spell weaker."

"Why would you want the spell to be weaker?"

"I don't want to spend all day watching them break a spell. This will be enough to give me an idea. Now, if you don't mind I want to get this done before it gets too late." She turns back to her work, taking five rocks out and laying them in a row. She rests her hand over the rune then pulls up, a copy of the sigil following. She claps her other hand over the sign and pulls again before setting five copies of the original enchantment onto the five stones. She pushes her will into them, sealing the magic to the rocks before tossing them unceremoniously to the side and grabbing a new batch.

The commander watches for a moment, trying to pick up on any danger but his Templar senses aren't quite what they used to be. His head is pulsing and the minor hum from her magic is driving him closer to the edge. He can't stop her, he needs to be a Templar and make sure she's not teaching blood magic or anything else detrimental to the Inquisition. He groans internally, that means getting up and actually checking. He heaves himself up from his chair and heads over the woman. "Take a moment and explain what you're doing."

She pauses, the annoyance obvious in the very movements of her hands. She once again explains the enchantment and the runes that make up each part of it. Cullen can't seem to focus on the tiny scratches but nods as if he understands perfectly. Dorian didn't seem concerned and the requirement to at least see for himself is fulfilled. Cullen sinks back down into his chair.

Rylen glances curiously at the mage again before returning to the plans of how to teach the new recruits tomorrow. It's easy, straight forward stuff but it still needs to be planned out. Tomorrow they'll be learning different ways to disarm an opponent. Yes, that'll be useful. He looks at the commander, maybe having someone to lead the mages isn't such a bad thing, even if they don't know her very well. If nothing else, it takes some of the pressure off of the man in charge of the whole Inquisition's army. The lack of sleep is starting to be painfully noticeable, it's good something changed.

The sun sets and Rylen finishes up his work and some of the commander's, not commenting on how his superior has been reading the same document for longer than it should have taken. "I'm goin' down to the tavern, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, I think I should leave too," Dorian stands. He could only watch the same repetitive spell repeated so many times before it became unbearably dull.

Cullen looks up and Rylen catches his eye. "You need any help with anything before we go?" the Knight-Captain jerks his head towards Jacqueline. "Need us to stay and do anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright, well then, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," The commander replies.

Rylen nods at the mage, "See you tomorrow."

"You as well – actually I never got your name."

He pauses then snorts, "Yeah, you're right. I'm Knight-Captain Rylen and this is Dorian Pavus."

"All the way from good ole blood magickey Tevinter," Dorian jokes.

"I'm Jackie. Well, if I'm teaching the mages Jacqueline sounds better, doesn't it? So Jacqueline."

"Well then, Lady Jacqueline, enjoy your rocks. I'm interested in seeing your lesson tomorrow," Dorian bids her farewell and they exit into the cool night. There's still almost half of the rocks left to do.

Cullen and Jacqueline sit in silence for awhile, both trying to ignore the other as much as possible until a particularly loud huff from the commander reminds her that he is, in fact, still there. "Commander," she calls, "Come here."

Thinking something's wrong he jerks up, out of his seat. "What's going on?" He gets to her side and sees no issues, nothing to raise any kind of alarm.

"Let me see your hand."

"What?"

"It'll be better for both of us if you do."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise." The enchanter rolls her eyes before grabbing his hand unexpectedly. Before he can react a warmth pushes into his arm, traveling up to his head. The warmth pools behind his eyes, soothing the pounding there.

Cullen sighs, for the first time in what feels like weeks if not longer, his headache has subsided. "Uh, thank you," he mutters.

She drops his hand. "I came to Skyhold to be a healer, that's all I wanted. Besides, it won't do for the Commander of the Inquisitor's Army, the Lion of Skyhold, to be in so much pain he can't see straight. If you can't even check a glowing rune, how do you expect to be able to work?"

"Ah, you noticed that."

"Not much escapes me, commander."

. . .

The air is crisp the following morning as Jacqueline marches across the grounds, her hair pulled fully back into a braid, away from her face. A staff made of a dark grey, almost black wood painted with golden swirls and topped with a large ruby is strapped to her back and her grimoire hangs below it. The troops had just finished their daily run and the mage leans up against a post to watch with a few other onlookers. There are a few people ogling the soldiers, a few watching wistfully, and then Jacqueline, taking mental notes of each stance they practice. Swords clang and sweat drips and her eyes turn to the commander and his closest officers, shouting orders and directing movements. He may distrust her – rightfully so - but he isn't the one she needs to watch. So long as she doesn't scare him, he'll probably be fine. He's open to magic at least. Her thoughts turn to the red haired woman, the spymaster according to her over eager roommate. That's who will give her the most issues. She's the one who can catch her in a lie.

A dear friend springs to mind, a man with dark eyes and dark hair who always looked ready to spring into action. Who had managed to sneak past him, at least when he couldn't look on them with magic-laden eyes?

_Thenight air is hot and would have been unbearable except for the breeze blowing in from the bay. Little yellow lights glow inside of lanterns mounted on the white washed walls and strings of lights float happily in mid-air, giving the terrace a warm glow. She reclines on the couch, her loose pants gathered at the knee and the cuffs crisscrossing over themselves down her calf. A full overskirt with slits up the sides pools around her. One bare arm, only adorned with gold bracelets, is thrown over the back of the divan. _

_Hak'ran brings her a drink and sits on the other side of the couch, letting the stress of the day fall away from him. She notes the wrinkles in his dark sleeveless tunic and the creases where his hands gripped his pants nervously throughout the day. He takes a sip of wine then turns to her. "Your people are so lucky."_

_"__Yes, we are," she laughs, her whole unblemished face lighting up. "What makes us so lucky today?"_

_"__You can throw in a little Mesmer and everyone will believe you. I've seen you do it. You can compel them to tell the truth or you can open their minds and see their lies."_

_"__Though that's slightly more difficult," she adds before taking a swig._

_"__Not by much. That Count Geerath from the Sheirkin Desert keeps telling these outrageous stories. They're so incredible I initially couldn't tell if he was telling the truth because who would believe such a lie, or he was lying in the hopes that I'd think it was too unbelievable to be anything but true. After all, the fat old man claims to have fought off sand wurms."_

_"__Well, you do have the Sight, why don't you look and see?"_

_He sighs, rubbing his temples. "I did. It's all half truths, he's done it so effectively my Sight is just constantly nagging at me but never alarming me. I need you to look at him." He hangs his head. "I'm sorry I couldn't do it."_

_She leans forward and runs her hand over the woven gold band on his bicep. "You were given this because you're the best here, remember that. It's okay that you're still learning a few things, you always will be." _

_"__I should be better. I haven't had this problem before, and if I can't –"_

_She raises a hand, cutting him off. "Send him to my quarters in the morning, I'll see what he really is."_

_The carved wooden door opens and Akia steps out into the warm light, his long, intricately plaited brown hair tossed over one shoulder. His robe is already put away for the night so her stands bare-chested in front of them. She can't help but smile, admiring the view of the man she'd given her heart and soul to. _

The sun is high when mages begin milling around and the commander calls for the regular troops to finish. The clanging stops and mages begin to fill the field as the others leave. The commander calls them forward and beckons Jacqueline over as he introduces her.

"I know most of you have been less than thrilled with how I've been training you. You've learned some in the circles, you've learned some on the road, some of you have even learned while fighting for your lives, but no one has been able to teach the others here. After a long wait, the Inquisition has finally found someone to teach you battle magic properly." Panic washes over him as he realizes that she was never tested. What if the book was just a trick? What if she fails miserably and the mages leave the Inquisition? No, it's too late for those worries. He steels himself and continues, none of the fear apparent through his words. "Enchanter Jacqueline has volunteered to teach."

She steps forward, her chin raised proudly. A murmur runs through the crowd, that's to be expected. Just as she opens her mouth someone shouts. "She's not a teacher, she's a hedge mage healer! I saw her just the other day, she's not a fighter." A chorus of agreement follows. "Why would we want her teaching us?"

Jacqueline smirks. "Because I'll teach you to fight in ways you never dreamed of in the circles. Commander," she calls, "From your experience, who is the strongest, most skilled mage in attendance?"

He looks at her, concerned that he may know exactly what she's thinking. "Aramath is."

"Aramath, come forward if you wish to prove your strength against me. Show me what the best mage here can do. Everyone else, stand back." A tall, lean man with long, pulled back brown hair and a reddish beard steps forward, his staff in hand and his grimoire already opened and levitating in front of him. He grins and a circle forms around them of mages eager to watch. The commander with his front row view prays he didn't just make a fool of himself.

Jacqueline draws her staff, Aramath watches her closely, watches the loose grip on her weapon and the lack of any noticeable stance. He strikes, throwing fire from his staff that she easily dodges. She doesn't retaliate. He strikes again, she dodges. Again he strikes and she dodges. He mouths a word, his book turns to a specific page and he glances at the text. Even when his eyes are down, she doesn't attack, just slinks closer to him. He finishes the spell, a red circle glows around her feet, intricate knots intertwining within it. She smiles at the immolation spell before drawing her staff down, striking and nullifying it.

Aramath grips his staff harder. "What are you waiting for? Attack me!"

"If you insist." She swings her staff, throwing out fire of her own. He blocks the first one but they keep coming. He pushes out, a wall of flame heading towards her. She gathers stone to her, cutting through the flames, protecting her. She hits her rod against them and they burst forward, people watching duck to avoid them. Aramath isn't quite as lucky. One catches him in the shoulder and he glances down at the book again. She sends a small fireball at the book, knocking it far away from him. "Don't take your eyes away from your opponent."

He roars at her in frustration and the two continue to trade blows. Minutes pass and it's obvious who's winning. The circle mage keeps retreating, sweating. Jacqueline sends a flame wall, higher and stronger than his, at him. She runs behind it and when it passes him, with him barely blocking, she jumps in close. She's too close for him to use his staff and he drops it but doesn't go for any additional weapons like the dagger hanging at his hip. No, instead he tries to hit her with fireballs directly from his hands, trying to push her away from him. One hand swings at her in a fist which she easily grabs and pushes farther across his body, throwing him off balance. His shoulder is exposed and she grabs it, spinning him so she's at his back. She pulls her staff up, over his throat and locks it in place with her elbows, her hands intertwined behind his head.

He panics, one hand flying to his throat and the other flailing around, trying to hit her, trying to make her stop but each time she dances away she jerks him roughly. "Do you yield?" She questions.

He snarls, still trying to claw the staff away from his neck, magic completely forgotten. She pulls tighter in response, he chokes. "Do you yield?" He jerks his head back, trying to break her hold but she's done this before. Again he chokes. "Aramath, do you yield?"

He nods vigorously. She immediately lets go. He falls to his knees, coughing and massaging his neck. The victor drops down beside him, a hand on his back. "Breathe, you're okay, just breathe. You did really well, no one reacts well to things bars across their throats, just breathe." She sends a little healing magic into him and he starts to calm down. His breath starts to sound a little less ragged and she helps him up, looking at the mages around her. Some are intrigued, some are determined, several are scared. Let them be, fear will motivate them.

"Are you willing to let me teach you now?" Her voice rings out clearly across the training grounds of Skyhold. "Do you trust that I know what I'm doing?" Silence greets her, birds singing in the gardens are easily heard. "Good, then let's begin."

The commander watches her organize the mages, unsure of whether to be relieved or concerned. He's never seen a mage fight like that, never seen one so comfortable with using the staff itself as a weapon and not just a magical tool, Hawke had been close but not quite the same. Perhaps the worst part is that he notices that while Aramath is panting and sweating, she hasn't even begun to perspire. He'd better keep a closer eye on her, not let himself forget for a single moment how dangerous she can be.

The mages are organized by general specialty – fire, spirit, electricity, ice, and earth. A little over a third of them have specialized in spirit magic, no surprise since that's where they draw their magic from. They pull from the fade, trying to keep a small channel open, pulling constantly. The elemental mages do the same. Fire mages hold flames steady, electric mages try to contain their lightning, ice and earth mages have to show their control by holding their elements up, not letting them drop to the ground. As each mage falters she takes down their name and about how long they lasted.

As they finish, the rocks she'd spent so long on the day before come out. They break into smaller groups and take turns using whatever they deem is their strongest spell to break the protection spells she'd put on them. One person counts the number of hits and reports it to the enchanter.

By the time those two exercises are done the sun is beginning to sink and the mages are tired from standing out in the sun all afternoon. Jacqueline purses her lips, getting them organized took so long there wasn't even time to spar. She needs to be able to deal with smaller groups instead of this large mass, at least when teaching magic. For all other combat, she at the very least needs others who know what they're doing. She dismisses the mages and heads up to the commander's office since she has yet to get one of her own.

The commander arrived only a few minutes before her but is already picking at a plate of food while pouring over papers. Her stomach grumbles at the sight. Cullen looks up, "Get one of the runners, they'll bring you something to eat."

"In a moment." She sets her notes down on the desk. "Do I have an office yet?"

"No, I –"

A knock on the doorframe interrupts him and a messenger enters. "Lady Josephine asks that you join her, if it's not too much trouble. It is rather important."

Jacqueline rolls her eyes. She's forgotten about the comments like that, the demands followed by 'if it's not too much trouble'. Those are things she could still easily do without. "Of course," Cullen replies, "We'll by right there."

The mage glares but knows better than to try to refuse. The walk to the ambassador's office is nice, the air nips but doesn't bite. Silence stretches between them and her stomach rumbles again. Cullen almost says something but stops.

They enter Josephine's office to find her and the Nightingale sitting primly with a spread of food before them. Josephine smiles, "Come in, I'm sure you're hungry, join us."

Jacqueline thanks her and they sit. Quickly she puts some of the shredded and sliced meats and cheeses onto a plate, stacking crackers beside them. "So how was your first day? I heard it was quite different from what the commander has been doing with them."

The enchanter finishes chewing before responding. "I think it went well, we weren't able to get as much done as I'd hoped however I was able to see about where everyone was. Overall it was good."

"Oh good, I'm glad to hear it!"

Leliana adds, "I saw the end of your fight with Aramath. That was quite impressive, didn't you think so, Commander?"

Cullen nods in agreement. "Yes, I haven't seen a mage fight like that before."

"I heard the Champion of Kirkwall was quite the warrior, despite being a mage."

"She is, but the fighting styles are different. Hawke stayed far away from her opponent but attacked from all sides. Jacqueline seems to attack more directly and definitely closer."

Jacqueline shakes her head. "If you know you're capable of beating your opponent head on, there's no point in putting in the extra energy to attack from the sides. It'll wear you out for your next fight unless you're just toying with them and making them sweat. Then you attack from the sides.

"But that's enough about that. If I might ask, I was wondering if the commander had had the chance to talk to you two. I know the Inquisitor has the final say however I was wondering if you'd had time to look at and think over my terms."

"Ah yes," Leliana replies, "We did. I think it's fair, we will as you said need to run it all by the Inquisitor when she comes back."

"We can arrange the stipend however the room and the office will have to wait. We don't want you to get settled and then have to move you. The Inquisitor should be back within a month, is that acceptable?" Josephine asks.

"Hmm," the mage ponders for a moment. "At the very least I need a different place to sleep. My roommate likes to talk and I need my rest."

"Yes, Cor does seem like a rather talkative child. I suppose we can arrange something. Give us a few more days and we'll try to find you something temporary."

"Thank you. As for the office -"

Cullen interjects, "Until the Inquisitor decides what to do, I think it's best if you work in my office."

Leliana chuckles, "You know how Templars are, always worried. I'm sure it's no issue for you though, is it Jacqueline?"

"It doesn't seem as if I have much of a choice so it must be no issue."

"Good, then it's settled!"

Josie touches the mage's gloved hand ever so lightly, "I'm glad you've decided to teach. Now, you must tell me everything, what made you decide to come to Skyhold? Your family are nomads of some sort, what great sites have you seen? With how far north you were, did you feel any of the conflict between the Templars and mages there? I'm so curious to know about your magic too, I've never had the chance to talk with a truly skilled battle mage!"

Jacqueline just looks at the woman, her golden doublet and tan skin skin with dark curly hair. She's sincere, even with ulterior motives she does really want to know for herself too. Jacqueline sighs internally, she's not going to be able to get away with half answer lies for long.

Her friend springs to mind again and she smiles morosely, beginning to weave her story, filling it with whatever Mesmer she can conjure. "I'm sure at least the Nightingale has figured out that I can't answer those questions."

Leliana raises her eyebrows and leans forward. "Really, then tell us the truth."

"First, you must swear to not tell a soul, not even the Inquisitor until I've sworn her to secrecy."

"Fine, we swear," the spymaster answers quickly. The others nod hesitantly. Jaqueline pours a little magic into their oaths.

"I'm from far away, across the seas. I was part of the Royal Guard of Almirat, I protected the throne, I fought for the throne. There was a coup that I was unable to stop," She pauses before continuing. "My king was killed and the rest of us were forced to try and fight an enemy that we couldn't find. Eventually it drove us, separated, into hiding. I haven't heard from anyone in years. I really did come here to be a healer, to start over somewhere.

"I don't know your lands, your culture, your people, even your magic, but if I'm to teach the mages then I need to be able to ask questions that would seem odd coming from a Ferelden. I need help understanding your ways."

The Mesmer works. Leliana frowns for a moment, processing the quick story before nodding. "That makes sense."

Josephine smiles excitedly, "Is this Almirat across the Amaranthine Ocean?"

"Yes, it is."

"Tell me all about it, I've always wanted to know what lay beyond the sea. They say that those who sail too far come back addled, they don't remember who they are or they rave about sea monsters."

Jacqueline laughs, "Good, that means our enchantments are still working. What do you want to know?"

"Oh, everything! What is your Almirat like? What are your main exports? What caused the coup?"

"Almirat is a white city built on Kierat Bay. In the morning the sun rises over the water and you can hear the birds begin to sing though the gulls often drown them out. Vendors will shout at you from their stalls, especially near the wharf. At night there's always a cool breeze and enchanted lights hang over the streets." She smiles at a thought. "There's a school for magic there now, the King established it. It was also my duty to keep those children safe. We were the safest city in the Empire, no one could touch us. Our walls were enchanted to that no one wishing ill will on us could enter. They even say that when Almirat first became the capitol The Queen and King cut open their feet and walked around the perimeter of the city then raised the walls over their circle to protect us. We were safe there."

Cullen hisses, "Blood magic!" His hand grips his sword tightly.

Jacqueline tenses, shocked, but replies, "It was millennia ago! Our magic is different than yours. We do different things, that's why I need your help."

"I refuse to have a blood mage here, especially teaching! She could turn into an abomination at any moment!" He rises, draws his sword and she raises her hands, fire coating each one.

Leliana intervenes quickly stepping between the two. "She never said she was a blood mage, Commander, just that ancient rulers did it."

"Yes." Josephine grabs the mage and pulls her back. "Listen to what she said, it wasn't her. Jacqueline, are you a blood mage?"

She looks at the commander's sword then locks eyes with him, recognizing the fear and fury in his eyes. She shouldn't have mentioned the walls, it just slipped out. "I've never sacrificed anyone for their blood, I've never demanded a blood payment, I've never practiced the dark arts of blood magic." None of it was technically a lie.

"Commander." Leliana puts her hand gently on the sword.

"How can we trust her?" The commander growls.

"You don't have a choice but to trust me, you need someone to teach the mages and I'm the best bet you have! You have to believe me, I'm not going to hurt anyone. Please."

He glares at her, "My duty is to make sure no abominations enter Skyhold. If I get even the slightest hint, the briefest whisper, that you're practicing blood magic, that you're doing anything at all to endanger the Inquisition, I'll do my duty."

She clenches her jaw, her eyes burning with the same intensity her hands had been lit with moments ago. "I would expect nothing else from you, Commander Cullen."

He sheathes his sword and stalks out of the room, unable to bear the sight of her. The door closes and the mage looks at the other women, "Abomination?"


End file.
